Make It Stop
by Narn1
Summary: The tale of one unplugged, haunted by the past through her dreams. One Shotish, Longish, but goodish. Try it out, and review.


~*~Author's Note~*~ This little (well, not really little-it's six pages in Word) story is a one shot thing, set somewhere between The Matrix and The Matrix Reloaded. Like it? Love it? Want to see it burned? That's what the review button is for. HINTHINT. Anyways, it's kinda long. I hope you like it. Enjoy. . .  
  
As many stories often begin, it was a dark and stormy night. The night was oppressive in its gloom, and the thunder rolled menacingly through the clouded sky. On this trying night, one ship glided silently through the complex patterns that were the remaining sewer systems-the highways of the hoverships piloted by those whose minds had been freed. It's exterior was reminiscent of an insects exoskeleton, save for the soft blue light that emanated from the thrusters on the sides and bottom of the craft. The ship itself was a mess of metal plates, hanging wires, and who knows what else. Little or no movement was apparent within the ship, save the constant flow of green characters along a collection of monitors. A lone figure lazed on a chair before these monitors, idly observing the characters as they scrolled, occasionally tapping at a keyboard resting on it's lap. Closer inspection revealed this figure to be a female. Her cropped blonde hair made the lack of a plug clear. Her pale blue eyes continued to can the monitors about her. An old tee shirt, fitting surprisingly well for an obviously second-hand garment, hid a strong frame, roughly 19 years of age. She sighed heavily as she looked away from her screens momentarily. Her gaze flitted towards a nameplate on a nearby wall, worn with age. The oxidizing letters read 'The Charger' in a plain, almost block like script. The seated figure smiled softly upon seeing these words, the name of the ship she was a part of. With that, her attention returned to her monitors, and the verdant coding streaming along them.  
  
"Sway?" Came a faint voice from the darkness, female in origin. The blonde woman at the screens turned about again towards the source of the voice, her lack of concern a sign that this was a regular occurrence.  
  
"Hey Klip." Sway replied, turning her chair about completely as another figure stepped into the faint light of the monitors. This new figure had lank dark hair that hung about her shoulders, and bark brown eyes that appeared almost black in the lack of light. She wore a tattered blue sweatshirt five sizes too big, as well as a pair of ancient combat boots and grey sweatpants that had seen far better days. Klip's face was slightly sunken, and dark circles surrounded her eyes, becoming more prominent as they ran along the bottom. She looked to be about 16, but in reality, was the same age as Sway.  
  
"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" Sway asked gently.  
  
"Do I ever?" Klip replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. Sway shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"Fair enough. The dreams again?" She inquired, turning back towards her screens. Klip shuddered slightly at the word 'dreams'. Indeed, it was the dreams that brought her here tonight.  
  
"You know . . ." Sway began, looking back at her companion "You're going to have to sleep eventually. Scythe is going to figure it out soon enough, and you're not doing yourself any favors." Klip nodded slowly before replying. Scythe, the captain of the Charger, was a great man, who cared deeply for his crew. And for that reason alone, Klip couldn't bring herself to tell him. It would hurt him more than help her.  
  
"I know. Scythe has the best intentions, but he just doesn't understand."  
  
"And I do?"  
  
"Better than he does. If I told him I was dreaming again, he'd probably freak out."  
  
"But what about you? Depriving yourself of sleep isn't healthy."  
  
"I don't think I care anymore." Klip finished, a bitter edge to her words. Sway simply shook her head.  
  
"If you keep this up Klip, you're going to crack."  
  
"Better that then the dreams." Sway sighed heavily. From what she knew of her friend's dreams, she wasn't sure she doubted it. Klip had woken up screaming a couple times before, raving on about how she couldn't see, how the dark was hurting her eyes, even when the lights in her room had been turned on. When approached about this, Klip would clam up and refuse to tell anything. A moment of profound- feeling silence passed as Sway considered what to say next. Before she could say anything, Klip spoke again.  
  
"I'm heading back to my room." She whispered, turning and leaving. Sway simply shook her head once more, unable to find any words that would comfort her friend, or not get Klip's back up. Defeated, she decided to leave things as they were, and simply looked on at the coding before her as silence engulfed the hull of the Charger once more.  
  
Klip tottered her way through the ship in silence, dreading her arrival back at her room. She knew the routine well enough-as soon as she sat down up on her bed, the darkness would extend an inviting hand, whisper soothing words to her. Stupidly, she would take that hand, allow it to lead her. Together, she and the darkness would go to the brink of those dreams that she feared. As soon as she realized where she was, the darkness' hand would become a manacle, refusing to let her leave that spot, trying to drag her further into sleep. The gentle whispers would become a menacing cackle, crowing at its victory over her. Klip would lie there for who knows how long, trying to ward off sleep, and in turn the dreams that lay beyond that brink she would not let herself pass. She soon arrived at her cell, and moved to open the door. Klip allowed her hand to hover over the door handle for a moment, cringing at the thought of entering that place. She allowed her hand to fall back to her side, as if in defiance of the fate that awaited her behind the door.  
  
"Can't sleep?" A voice from the shadows questioned. Klip jumped at the sound, turning to face the origin of the question. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the dark after talking with Sway in the hull, so she couldn't make out who had spoken. It wasn't Scythe, thankfully. A fellow crewmember stepped into Klip's range of vision-Trick. Klip had thought him almost handsome when she had met him in the Matrix a few months ago. It was she who had freed his mind. A quiet sort of guy, he reminded her of a poet for some strange reason. He had dark hair that had yet to grow back fully, and had developed a habit of fingering his plug every so often. He was still quiet, with a pair of brown eyes even darker than Klip's. He was kind of lanky, with a gaunt face and lips that seemed to be constantly pursed in thought. Klip relaxed slightly when she saw him standing there.  
  
"Not really." She confessed, her shoulders softening slightly.  
  
"Me neither." He admitted, an aloof smile crossing his face. Trip took a few more steps closer.  
  
"Do you always go stalking when you can't fall asleep?" Klip asked, raising an eyebrow archly. Trip just shrugged, leaning against the wall.  
  
"So-what's your excuse?" He asked as Klip stifled a yawn.  
  
"I just can't sleep. You?" He glanced around, as if to see if anyone else was watching, or perhaps listening in.  
  
"Honestly?" Klip nodded.  
  
"Nightmares." He admitted, his grin becoming somewhat sheepish. Klip didn't bother to try and hide her interest. Trick was having nightmares too?  
  
"What kind of nightmares?" Klip inquired softly.  
  
"Nightmares about my family. They're all stuck in the Matrix still, and I see them. They're screaming at me to help them, to get them out. I want to save them, but I can't move or speak. I can't really do anything." He laughed softly, trying to trivialize the significance of the words he had just spoken. Klip shrugged, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind an ear. She hardened visibly at the mention of family. Those words simply struck too close to home. Her shoulders tensed, and she stood up a little taller.  
  
"Goodnight Trick." She whispered, opening her door and slipping into her cell. A confused Trick followed suit, and headed back to his own room.  
  
Klip threw herself down on her bed, muttering faint curses underneath her breath. She wrapped herself up in a well-worn blue blanket, still cursing. The shadows in her cell seemed to dance about, laughing silently at her. Klip ignored them with all the ability she had gained over her years of dreams. All of a sudden, the familiar cycle began. The shadows seemed to fall silent as a quiet hand was reached out to her.  
  
-Close your eyes, Sara.-  
  
A strange, inhuman voice whispered. Klip shook her head, eyes widening at the use of her name.the name her mother had given her.  
  
"No-My name is Klip.Klip." She whispered.  
  
-Come with me.-  
  
The shadows seemed to settle about Klip's limp body. The hand was still there, waiting. It would not tire of waiting, nor would it ever grow impatient.  
  
-Come with me, Sara.-  
  
Suddenly, the results of going too long without sleep became apparent. Slowly, her own resolution was chipped away at, already weak from lack of rest. Her eyelids became leaden, weighing down upon her face. Her entire body screamed for the rest it so desperately needed.  
  
-Take my hand.-  
  
Al shred of her own will now gone, Klip obliged. Her eyes fell closed, her entire being reveling in the knowledge that sleep was on the way. The darkness smiled secretly, taking her along a distantly familiar path. Klip followed along, not resisting in any way. She was simply thankful she didn't have to think-that she was being led. It was not long until Klip came up to that well-known cusp, beyond which lay the dark, disturbing dreams she feared. When the darkness' grip tightened, she didn't fight it. In fact, she was barely aware of it happening. A hollow laugh rang inside Klip's head as she was dragged beyond the cusp, and thrown headfirst into the unknown. Realizing what was happening, Klip screamed-but no one was there to hear. The laughter grew louder as she fell further and further.and stopped as she hit the ground. She landed smoothly on her feet, left leg extended fully to the side, right leg crouched and right hand barely touching the ground. She bit her lip, knowing what would happen next. The darkness about her lifted as she stood, revealing a busy city street. People were walking along, seemingly oblivious to her presence. She looked about herself, taking in the high-rises on either side of her, and the cars driving along her left side on the road. She brushed herself off, not even bothering to look at what she was wearing-she already knew. It was the outfit she was always garbed in when she was plugged into the Matrix. Jet black combat boots, polished to a dull shine. Slightly stretchy black pants of a rayon and polyester blend hugged her hips, flaring out from her knees. A red tee-shirt was covered by a long coat of the same material as the pants, whose first button fastened just under her breastbone, and whose last fastened between her hips. Reaching into her left pocket, as she knew she would, she pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses. She pulled them on absently, smoothing out her hair. It was pulled back, and streaked through with a red to match her tee shirt: Exactly the way it had been before she was pulled out of the Matrix. She bit her lip, a stray tear running down her right cheek. She knew what was going to happen..  
  
"Excuse me, miss?" A non-descript male voice from behind her intoned. Klip closed her eyes. She had been through this many times before, and was no longer startled by the stranger's approach. She turned about, finding herself face to face with an impeccably dressed, middle-aged man He was balding slightly, and a half-hearted attempt at a comb-over tried to hide it. He too donned dark glasses, but also sported an earpiece. Klip was now face to face with an agent. Shifting her weight, she launched into a high kick aimed for the side of the agent's face. As always, the agent was caught off guard. She dodged the retaliatory kick from the agent by swooping into a low roundabout to trip him. Standing up as the agent fell, she burst into an all out run down the street, shoving aside pedestrians. Before she'd gotten fifteen feet, she was facing the same agent yet again. It was now her turn to be caught of guard. The agent swung a punch at her, nailing her in the jaw as yet another stray tear fell. She could almost have sworn that she could feel blood vessels rupturing, and the accompanying bruise starting to form. Stepping backwards to maintain balance, she flung herself into a backwards cartwheel, getting the agent twice in the throat as she did. When she was back on her own two feet, there were two more agents-one on either side of her. Crouching out of instinct, she sprung up while extending her legs out quickly to get both of the agents in the face with her sturdy boots. She landed to find herself surrounded by a small mob of agents. She never counted how many there were at this point-at first, she had been too hysterical to do so. After, she simply did not care. Each of her arms were grabbed by an agent, at the same time as her ankles were clasped. Yet another agent grabbed her neck, and held it in place with a grip of steel. She didn't even bother to fight back- there was no point. The agent's grip would not yield, no matter how she struggled. She closed her eyes, not even bothering to fight off her own sobs. The agent directly in front of her removed it's sunglasses, revealing a pair of dark eyes that Klip knew far too well. Her fathers. All of the other agents about her removed their sunglasses as well, their hair and faces altering as they did so. They became members of Klip's family-the family she left behind when her mind was freed. Her mother, her brother, her two sisters.  
  
"Janna . . . Marie . . ." She whispered, her gaze flickering between her sisters. They remained unresponsive, seeming to look right past her.  
  
"Daniel . . ." She wailed, looking towards her older brother. He too looked on beyond her.  
  
"Would someone shut her up?" Klip's mother scowled, putting her sunglasses back on. Her father nodded, and promptly smacked Klip across the face.  
  
"Daddy . . ." Klip whimpered, her face stinging. Biting down hard upon her lower lip, Klip swore she could almost taste blood. A rough hand from behind pulled a thick band about her face, tying it tight about her eyes. She couldn't see anything at all. A sharp kick to her back had her sprawled out on the concrete below. With that, Klip's hands and feet were bound with what she always guessed to be duct tape.  
  
"Please . . . let me wake up. Just let me wake up . . ." She sobbed. No response was given, and none was expected. The only reply was the beginning of a brutal beating. A series of kicks ensued that broke several of Klip's rib, and cracked the rest. The pain was excruciating, The laughter that accompanied it-the laughter of her family-was even more torturous. Breathing became harder and harder, leading Klip to believe that her lungs had been punctured in a couple places. With a final gasp, she let out a loud, piercing scream.  
  
"NO MORE!"  
  
And with that, Klip shot up in her bed, surrounded by only the darkness. Clutching her knees right into her chest, she began to rock back and forth. Seeing nothing. Hearing nothing, feeling nothing. "Please . . . " She whispered to the darkness that surrounded her. " . . . please make it stop. . . "  
  
FIN 


End file.
